


Close Encounters

by oREDACTEDo



Series: Creepy Femme Fatales [2]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Crazy, F/M, Fighter, Mercy - Freeform, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Serial Killers, Stabbing, Stalking, Victim - Freeform, Victim Reader, Violence, Yandere, strong reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-03-29 15:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oREDACTEDo/pseuds/oREDACTEDo
Summary: Your first encounter with Jeff showed him how tough you were and showed you how insane he was.  That doesn't mean you were prepared for that knife to your shoulder.  He promised to visit you every now and then, and he always keeps to his promises.





	1. Encounter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Short 1:00 AM drabble because why not, am I right?

_“Holy…shit.”_

Your previous clamors were halted as the hilt of knife protruded from your shoulder, the blade plunging so far in that it pinned you into the drywall. 

Again, the voice stammered in child-like disbelief.  “Holy… ** _shhhhhit,”_**

Sourly you glared up, your eyes bloodshot as tears puffed around your lids.  Lips curled into a painful sneer, your fingers shivering maliciously with every desperate grasp against the weapon.  Frantic for freedom you attempt to tug, but to no avail.  The pain was too much, and your assaulter’s brute strength managed to pin you successfully into place. 

Your impending killer was gawking at you, cladded in nothing but a white sweater and aged jeans.  His black hair was long and unkept, and his eyes…so wide open that you couldn’t possibly shy from his gaze.  Lips torn and forever pulled into a sickening grin he neared closer to you now, having taken a step back to stare at your painful position.

“That must hurt…in yet you’re not crying…!  You’re a toughie, aren’t ya?” he giggles, his finger running teasingly along your chin.  You snap, teeth attempting to bite down at his thin finger, but he jerks back just in time with a cackle to accompany his excitement. 

“Heheh!  Tricky bitch, you ain’t getting me that easy.”

Vision fading in and out, you could barely keep yourself up.  The killer tilted his head curiously before glancing down at the ground.  Your blood was pooling beneath you, having drifted far enough to stain the edges of his worn sneakers.  “Shit,” he growls, but not because the blood. 

Because you were dying.

“Awe man, you were so fun,” he sighs, sorely disappointed at how quickly it all had to end.  That distraught tone didn’t match his ever-joyful expression, eyes so wide you wondered how he could possibly have gotten used to such terrible conditions.  Lips so absent you could only contemplate on the amount of practice he had to go through to even _mirror_ the near perfect speech he was making.

You couldn’t even explain how you were thinking.  The horrors unfolding before you made you want to vomit, but the darkness creeping in the corner of your vision was keeping the pain at bay.  You were about to pass out from the loss of blood, but a rough hand tugging on your bangs and the sound of fingers snapping pulled you back to reality. 

“Hey—hey!  Wake the fuck up, lady,” he barks, earning a weak groan from you.  In a mere fraction of a second, he pulls his knife from your body, unsheathing it from the heat of your flesh.  You scream, your knees hitting the ground with a loud crack.  Hunching down, the man stoops to your level, eyeing you curiously as you swayed three healthy limbs and a limb, curled arm. 

“How you doing, sunshine?” his voice was sing-song laced with a hint of terror.  Darkly you glared up at him, tears streaming from your eyes, and he points at you excitedly.  “Hah!  Made you cry!  Guess I won, huh?”

“Go… **fuck** …yourself, you dry-eyed bastard,” you spat, and surprisingly enough there was a good amount of spice to your tone.  The man tilts his head, his messy hair following the flow of his motions.  “Eh?  You’re really trying to threaten me, doll?” 

Flashing the knife before you, you stared at your reflection off the bloodied surface.  His voice was low now, threatening, “…don’t make me reconsider,” he hisses. 

You sway still, your vision giving out for a moment.  Faltering, you settled for staring at the concrete ground.  This was where you were going to die—outside of your work complex, by yourself, in the hands of a madman whose face was all over the news. 

Jeff the Killer they called him, and you had just joked about how ridiculous he was to your cohorts only hours ago.  The irony was much sharper than that knife in his pasty white hands. 

“Tell you what,” he broke the silence again, his constant rough tone having a lighthearted chime to it.  Picking at his chin he momentarily glances up at the ceiling in thought.  “How’s about I let you go.” 

Your eyes widen, neck curving to the side to stare at him through your messy bangs in disbelief.  “…w…what?” you croaked, throat sore from the immense pain of holding back your cries.

Looking back down at you he graces you with his crystal blue eyes, the shade rather lovely but coming across as lifeless now, given the circumstances. 

“You heard me sunshine.  I’ll let you go…but I’ll just keep coming back until I get bored with you.  Do you like the thought of that?”

No—no you absolutely abhorred it.  But his fingers reached over to pinch at your cheeks, the softness of your flesh something he enjoyed greatly.  Nudging your head side to side he gives you one last giggle before standing up.  “The name’s Jeff by the way.”

“I **_know_** …” you gag, the taste of your own blood reaching your mouth.  You sounded so abrasive because of all the pain—you were a stubborn woman, but at the same time you didn’t want to get yourself slaughtered.  Wincing at the sight of his feet nearing your head, you swore he was about to kick you for being sassy with him after such a generous offer.  Yet, he didn’t, but instead he reached down to pat your locks. 

“Heheheh!  You’re real fuckin’ fun you know that?  Most women that see me run away with their tails between their pussies.  But not you…you got some serious balls.”  His hot breath laced the shell of your ear now, sending tremors of fear down your spine.  **_“My kinda gal…”_** Jeff’s everlasting smirk was in the corner of your vision.  Not daring to look up you settled for staring at the blood that pooled along the ground, submerging your fingers within the crimson liquid.  Your phone was placed on the ground suddenly, within arm’s reach. 

“I’ll see you later babe!” he kicks himself up, walking away with a sway to his step.  “Oh, and make sure you get a good night’s sleep.”  Peering behind his shoulder you saw a dangerous shimmer in his eyes, forcing your heart to drop. 

“You’ll need it.”

 


	2. Encounter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff finds that he enjoys your dates very, very, much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some more drabble since I couldn't think of anything else to write c': !

_Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck._

You were fast, but he was faster.  Faster than any man you’ve ever dealt with.  But you were cunning, and you were smart, and you were far more _desperate_ to survive than he was to _kill_ you.  He made that a clear point when you stirred awake in the middle of the night to see those cold, lidless eyes of his staring at you in the darkness.

Jeff caught up to you finally after an entire month of silence.  He waited for the cops to switch out, giving him the opportunity to slip into the complex, and given the fact that he managed to wait a whole month before getting his grimy hands on you again only made it all that easier for him.  Alertness drifted into just mundane guarding tasks.  Soon, people didn’t take guarding you as seriously as they did with the priority to hunt the killer down.  Never did he leave someone alive.  They figured you were just a slip up, regardless of what you claimed he said, and they doubted he’d come back now if he hadn’t yet.  He was a reckless, careless, sadistic man.  Even you doubted he had a patience.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Except he wasn’t as patient as he had hoped for either.  He claimed he tried so… ** _fucking…hard…_** to wait just a _little_ bit longer, but to no avail. 

You got out, only because he let you run.  Because he _begged_ for you to run.  He wanted a thrill.  A chase.  No one was as fun as you, he insisted. 

So, you ran, but not for his sake.  Solely for yours.  You ran, and ran, until you reached the flight of stairs because God, who the hell would wait for an elevator to make it to the 7th floor unless they were in a horror movie.  Tables in the hallway were upturned as you used them not only as leverage but as a means to slow him down, and to your surprise it worked.  Jeff had hit the ground a couple times, cursing under his breath, and if it weren’t for that scar on his face you just _knew_ he would be _seething_ right now.  “ ** _C’MON BACK BABY!”_**

You weren’t screaming, because you knew what would happen.  Someone came out after hearing Jeff’s rough scream, stepping out only to be yanked forward.  Plunging his knife into their throat he glances up at you before leaping forward.  The terrorizing, monstrous act was performed so fluidly, so perfectly, that it was almost artistic.  But it wasn’t—it was a nightmare.  It made you cringe, made your eyes bulge before you scattered out the stairwell with Jeff messily chasing behind.  You could hear people screaming in fear, in agony, back upstairs.  The sounds echoed, the stairwell always being loud with your footsteps, but now you were gasping for air.  Stifling your cries.  And as soon as the door to the 7th floor banged open, and as soon as you heard the sounds of his knife scraping along the handlebars as he rushed after you, you stared to cry out. 

Damn, your shoulder hurt so much.  You noticed the blood tainting your bandages as you ripped open your stitches. 

**_“BABE!”_ **

Glancing up, you noticed he was leaping between floors, his long legs taking him five or more steps at a time with each stride. 

_Hurry…hurry!_

**_“FASTER…GO FASTER!”_** he was cackling, closing in, and you could _smell_ him.  Like laundry mat linen and bonfire ash and hotel soap.  Black hair was in the corner of your vision, the sound of a blade swooshing in the air.  You fell down the 3rd flight, your body tumbling and cracking with each step until finally your knees hit the clearing. 

No, it hurt so much, but you surprisingly got up and took a hard, sloppy left turn.  That made him laugh, made him excited.  **_“Atta girl!  Keep GOING!”_**

“Fuck..!  Leave me alone!” you screamed, your hands prying the door to the parking garage open.  Legs weak and spotted with bruises, you felt the cold touch of the 2:00 AM air.  Shorts and a long sleeve barely kept you warm, but the frigid temperatures reared your eyes open further, made your fresh cut on your shoulder blades sting you wide awake. 

Jingling your keys in you hands you searched for your white Mercedes, almost forgetting where you parked from the large amounts of adrenaline pumping into your veins.  Calling help didn’t do anything.  No guard was out this late, since the parking garage was always locked up at a certain time.  Not that you would be stopped from slamming on the gas and charging through the chain-linked fence.  A silver four door caught your eyes, and you sped up.  Because dear God he was getting closer.  You could hear his sneakers slamming onto the asphalt and his sloppy breathes and eager grunts to drain your dry of your precious blood. 

Faster…faster…that’s it! 

“C’mon c’mon c’mon!” you pried at the handle once you unlocked the car, and you managed to leap inside, but as your foot caught the door to close it shut, Jeff managed to slip his blade between the door and the frame.  It clanks, and he swings it back open, denting the neighboring vehicle.  Fingers latched around your ankle, your bare feet smothering with the blood of his last victim that stained his sleeve.  “FUCK!” you kicked, your heart hammering so hard in your chest you swore that then and there you were going to die.  But he pulls, hard, and your tailbone slams along the concrete while your head bangs against the hard plastic framing of your car. 

Fingers wrapping around your collar, you were lifted up and dragged towards the adjacent wall.  A 4-feet barrier was built along the edges to prevent people from falling, but Jeff’s thin stature was strong enough to lift you by the collar of your shirt single handedly and with great ease.  Your back was tilted over the edge, your eyes rearing to the side to see the high drop to the pavement below, and instinctively you clung onto his bicep. 

Breathing heavily, Jeff’s body was flush against yours, your legs having wrapped around his hips in the hopes of preventing your fall.  Blue, crystal eyes stared you down, his grin never failing him even as his tongue came out to lick the raw-looking Glasgow smile.  He watched you, your eyes wide like a doe’s in headlights, and felt just how strong your desperation was as you held tightly onto his forearm. 

“Fuck…yer so _cute_ ,” he snickers, leaning forward until he, too, was dangerously close to falling.  Shaking your head, you held tightly, remaining oh so still, even when his hips were pressing so terribly hard against yours.    

“Kinda wanna let go.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” you whisper, the fear evident in your voice.  Honestly, even if he didn’t, your only other option was to be in his complete mercy.  You were exhausted, your shoulder searing with pain, and your sleepless nights have led you to this.  You didn’t take his recommendation of good night sleeps to heart.  The unknown kept you up—the fact that he could be back and any given moment. 

Tongue lapping up his charred flesh, it was then you took notice the amount of damage to his skin.  It was so severe, so mutilated, you wondered if it was his own doing or from others.  Yet his blade came to meet your face, the tip so sharp and pointed that the effort to land the shallowest of slices was minimal.  A bit of blood beaded out, his eyes lighting up like that of a child’s.  “You smell so good,” he grumbles, voice barely above a whisper as he took you in.  All the staring made you nervous—all the complements he was giving you made you just wish he’d let you the fuck go already and fall. 

“Do it.”

Something inside of his snaps, like he had been pulled from a daze, because now he was looking at you in a less admirable sense and a more hostile one.  Jaw visibly shaking, you bit through the terror.  Whatever will happen will happen, and if tonight you were to dine in the afterlife you’d rather it happen sooner than later.  Because nothing was worse than _waiting_ for _death._

“ ** _What_**?” the aggravation was burning your skin when his breath lashed out.  He knew exactly what you demanded, but the nerve of you for even considering making orders…

Pulling you back from that high spot, you felt your legs give out once you touched the ground.  Against, you braced forward instinctively, your hands grasping the front of his white cotton hoodie as you struggled to shake the fear off just enough, so you could at least _fucking stand._

 You were about to push him back, about to kick at him furiously, and bite, and punch, but his hands tangled into your already messy bed hair to crane your neck painfully. 

“Shit, you’re all clingy already huh?  After just the second date?  I’m the luckiest fuck in the world,” his voice was laced with that same insanity, that same mockery that he used weeks ago.  Spit laced his face suddenly. 

You spat at him. 

Expecting him to grow angry, you were startled at his sudden lecherous laugh.  “You’re fucking insane…!” you stammered, the amount of terror rippling through your body making you shiver, making your eyes well up, making your body on the verge of bursting.  Your arms were tearing at his arms, pushing at his abdomen, but the hard muscles refused to budge.  That shoulder of your made you weak, and that panic you had was keeping you from thinking straight.  Towering body leaning forward, he was only an inch from your face.  “C’mon babe, give Jeffy some sugar.”

He pulls in, but only to meet his lips against the palm of your hand.  Shoving his head back, he only cackles as a finger lips between his sharp teeth.  He bit down, **_hard_** , but you didn’t halt your struggles to keep his face away. 

“Playing hard ta get, eh?!” he laughs, his tongue wrapping around your finger that he so enjoyably held hostage.  “C’mon, we’re just **_meant_** fer each other, wouldn’t you **_agree?!_** ”

“Go… ** _fuck_** …yourself…you sick monster,” your voice was an octave low, hate lacing each and every word like your life depended on it.  Like you really meant what you snarled.  And you did—oh you did.  Each and every syllable.

A playful hum rumbles from his throat, his eyes glistening as the street lamps casted a murky yellow light along his face.  You finger, the joint in terrible pain, felt like a walnut being pressed between the two claws of a nut cracker.  Any minute and it would burst under all that pressure.

_The human jaw can deliver a force up to 150-200 pounds psi._

A fact you liked to use just to be cool during conversations with your friends now riled you up to the point of near fainting.  He could not only break your finger—he could likely bite through it.  In yet you didn’t have any intention in playing nice.  No, you wanted to know just how much you detested him and nothing more. 

Pupils dilating, Jeff releases your finger before plunging his knife forward, this time on the opposite shoulder.  A gasp escapes your lips, your screaming dying out the moment you felt that extreme wave of pain surging through you.  Slipping his blade out, Jeff takes a wide step back, watching as your knees hit the ground. 

This felt familiar. 

Blood pooling under you, your one _good_ arm supporting your weight as the other stayed curved into your body.  Again, Jeff kneels before you.  And when you glance up to glare at him he instantly noticed the tears streaming down your face.

“Heh, I made you cry.” 

He leans in closer. 

“ ** _Again._** ”

Curling your lips in you shut your eyes tightly, the sting making you wince, but not as much as the searing pain plaguing your shoulder.  “Fuck…” you gagged, shivering in place, suffering through the torment, and he just _watched._

If Jeff could frown, he would.  “Awe man, now that I think about it…you’re crying already.  Guess you’re already starting to get weak.”  You noticed his arm raise over his head.  Jeff had a shadow casted over him, yet his eyes were glowing so dangerously in the darkness.  “Guess you’re all partied out.  Time for you to go…to…sleep!”

What he _should_ have felt was the crunch of your skull as the bone tried to resist his blade.  The splurge of blood and squishy sounds of grey matter as kitchen steel pierced through it like a plastic fork through jello.  But he didn’t get that.  What he got was the pavement, a loud and uncomfortable scrapping sound echoing through the parking complex.  Puzzled, Jeff’s eyes noticed you fingers wrapped around his knife, the flesh of your hand torn thoroughly.

Not only did you just move the arm of your bad shoulder, but you _grabbed_ his blade just as he was about to stab you, reverting his attack to the ground. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” his voice was slurred when you let go, and he takes the small moment of shock to raising his knife.  The tip was bent, the once pristine edge now flattened and chipped, and coated along the side was the crimson fresh liquid of your blood.

“…heh…heheh!  Hahahahah!!!”

Laughter was the last thing you wanted to hear.  Your head was spinning, your fear-induced headache almost lulling you to sleep.  But you could only watch as Jeff snapped his head back to let out a string of maniacal laughter, his dark messy locks splayed over his broad shoulders.  “Ahhhh… ** _fuck!_** You’re so fucking **_cool!_** ”

Was he being sarcastic?  Either way, the new look in his eyes made you want to vomit.  Except going in for another swing, Jeff takes his blood-stained hand and pets your hair _endearingly._

“And here I thought ya gave up,” he snickers, his giggle fit far from over.  But the sounds of sirens filling the air made him pause, his body tensing when he glances over his shoulder.  Shit—the cops were coming down the main road. 

“Shit, looks like date’s over baby.  But don’t worry, I won’t make you wait for me so long…”

You sneer, “Why the hurry…?  Stay a bit longer…”

Any longer and maybe, just maybe, the cops could show up and land some bullets into this fuckface.  But you weren’t that lucky.  Blood slicked fingers pinch your cheek, waggling your face, and that threatening expression of yours earns you his giggle.  “So _fun_.”  Somehow his grin widens as he leans in, his mangled lips pressing along your sweat slicked forehead.  The contact made you freeze in stark fear, the act oddly gentle, and as he goes to stand he places his foot onto your good hand before adding just a little bit too much weight.  You wince. 

“See ya later, babe.  Hell, maybe I’ll let you land a few hits next time.”

With that, he walks passed you, the sound of him leaping over the edge of the railing making your heart skip a beat.  Did he just jump?  You were too scared to turn, simply because you were totally sure that he was still standing there about to stab you.  Hesitantly you glanced behind you to see that he was, in fact, gone.  Rigid and hurting all over you take a stand, limping towards the edge to peak.  He was down there, but not face first and blood splattered all over.  No, he was _standing_ and _staring_ up at you unharmed. 

_That fall should have killed him…how is he alive?!_

Jeff throws you a little wave goodbye.  A loud bang echoes through the parking garage, a few sets of footsteps echoing in the darkness.  “Miss!” you heard someone call, a handful of policemen rounding the corner.  “Miss, where is he?!”

“D-Down…there,” you pointed back to the street, only to see that he was gone.

The rest of the night mirrored the first incident.  An escort to the ambulance, a trip to the hospital, a questioning with the same detectives…

…he promised you a few hits next time.  There was no doubt in your mind that you’d take that to heart. 


	3. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff is getting impatient...

“Fucker…”

Tongue lapping across your teeth, you taste the iron flavor of blood staining those once pearly whites.  You’ve never been punched in the nose before.  Admittedly, you always wondered what it was like.  Did it hurt?  Was there really a ringing sound?  Would it awaken that carnal rage that all those people seemed to go through in the movies after taking the first hit? 

All you knew was that it was all bullshit, and that it hurt, and that it accompanied a nasty migraine. 

You were angry, but not as much as you were absolutely _petrified_. 

“Fuck!  I didn’t wanna hit ya that hard.”

Jeff looked like he was assessing the situation—assessing the damage he caused you.  Both your arms were ragdoll slinging to your sides, a heft reminder of his last two visits.  You couldn’t even perform a push up anymore, given there was some permanent damage to your ligaments.  But Jeff was precise—though he wasn’t a doctor, he made sure to miss his usual mark.  No arteries were nicked, and no joints were mangled beyond repair.  In time, you would surely heal, but he there was absolutely no way he could wait that long.  Long hair tied back in a messy, sad excuse of a bun, Jeff stares at the ceiling thoughtfully.  “Now I’m gonna have ta work extra hard ta fix your face.”

“ ** _What_**?” you scowled, your fist shakily reaching towards your torn lips to wipe at your aching nuzzle.  Blood and snot smeared the surface of your hand.  Clicking his jaw, Jeff looks at you again, and you couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of expression he was intending to give you at the current moment.  “Yer face.  It’s all… _boring_.”

You could care less on what he meant.  You could care less that he was giving you such an intense stare down.  Right now, you leaned your back against the wall of your hospital room, relishing in the freezing cold touch against your blistering skin.  Shit—he didn’t even wait long enough to let you get released from care.  You barely even started physical therapy. 

You barely even healed in time.

Two weeks wasn’t long at all, but for you it was a mortifyingly huge about of time.  Every second passing, especially at night, you waited for _him._

“Why do you keep doing this to me, huh?” you panted, having only just begun but already on the verge of collapsing.  It must have been the morphine, or the sleep aids, or both.  Regardless, there was a darkness enveloping the corners of your vision, and as if that wasn’t enough, you felt like you were burning up.  Pursing his lips, at least attempting to, Jeff flicks at his nose before slouching a bit.  It was as if you two had been friends for so long, and that he was just stopping by to visit you unannounced in the dead hours of night.

That’s how he seemed to be treating it. 

His lack of enthusiasm was pestering you.  It didn’t change your outlook on this calamity—surely, he was bored now, and was going to kill you tonight.  But Jeff grunts, his eyes bloodshot as always, and he points to you lazily.

“Cuz I like ya.”

Blunt.  Honest.  To the point.

You weren’t ever going to take that statement to heart.  The man was double-dealing, using your torment for his corrupt sense of fun.  But his tone was different than usual, lacking that gruff rawness. 

“Well I _detest_ you,” you spat.

That made his lips angle at a strange way.  As if he were trying to frown.  But Jeff couldn’t frown—he was always and forever to smile bright as day.  Because it was his blessing, and it was his trait, just as much as it was his call card. 

“Understandable,” he shrugs, that nasty edge back in his tone.  “Can’t blame you for being jealous, now can I?”

As if you were envious about anything.  Spitting out the blood pooling in your mouth you snort, a few stray beads splattering along your top lip.  His hand came to slam against the wall near your head, his body hunching low so that you had absolutely no choice but to be eye-to-malicious eye with him, and he snickers. 

“See this?” his knife displays his face.  His face that he wears like a trophy.  And you cringed at how dangerously close he was.

“I’m… _perfect_.  You… _aren’t_.  Not that I can’t fix you, though.  You seem like you deserve it…but that can change if ya **_piss me off_**.”

Pride snapping, you felt your breathing pick up and your eyes water.  Your chest was burning, your heart hammering inside your chest like an enraged bull fighting to kick itself free.  Dreadful adrenaline was soaking into your senses, and in your ears, you can hear that faint, almost mosquito-like ringing of panic. 

“Don’t…don’t touch my face.”

Intending to be threatening you grimace at how petrified you sounded.  You lowered your guard for a moment, just a hair, to wipe at the blood on your nose that tickled your face.  He was here to finish the job, you just knew it, and there was nothing you could do but sit limp-armed and wait for it to come.

_“Y/N...”_

Your eyes darted to zero in on the horrified face of a fellow patient.  It was an older woman, someone that you had been sharing this room with for the entirety of your stay.  Sophie usually never slept, given it was a side effect of her medication.  She wasn’t a fan of sleeping pills either.  You had been hoping that she would spend the rest of the night as she always did—in the phone booth talking with her son all night.  But that didn’t seem to be the case.  You paused, mouth agape, and Sophie looked terribly worried.

“Your face, what happened?!”

As if you just remembered the gravity of the situation, you stumbled back against your bed before glancing back in front of you to see that Jeff was gone.  Sophie was approaching you now, the iv-drip assisting her as she scooted it along with her.  Just as she comes to touch your face the two of you jump at the sound of the door slamming.  Jeff locks the entrance, a terribly dangerous glint in his wide eyes.  Sophie wanted to scream—you could tell by how tense she got—but instead of cowering she adjusts herself to fully cover you.  Motherly instincts were kicking in, and it horrified you more than it made you feel safe.

“Sophie, no,” you whispered, voice no louder than a mouse when you spoke.  “He’ll kill you.”

“Stay behind me, okay?  I-I know who you are!  You stay away from her, you hear?  The police are just outside this room!”

Jeff chuckles, “Yeah—they are all right.  In fucking **_pieces_**!”  The cackle erupting from his throat made your skin crawl, but Sophie kept on shielding you mindlessly as if you were her child.  “Ahhhh…shit.  Why, you thought I’d come in here blind and take my chances?  I thought you said you knew who I was?  You obviously.  Fucking.  Don't.”

One step.  Two steps.  Five.  Eight. 

He snatched Sophie by the gown and tosses her to the ground.  You watched as he wrapped his fingers around her neck, pulling her helpless, sickly state back up again before **_squeezing._**

Sophie’s eyes were rolling to the back of her head, her skin growing pale and lips parted in a nasty “o”.  The knife was on the ground, but far too close to him you to be comfortable to grab it.  Not with your bad arms anyway. 

“Please, don’t,” your words seized his attention, his blue eyes darting up to stare at you.  That stare—it was as if he was taking you apart piece by piece, judging every bit of you down to the cell.  All to deem you worthless.  “What do I have to do to make you stop.”  Your voice was oddly firm, collected, with a hint of panic brimming on the edges.  Jeff, with a sudden look of interest in his eyes, snickers at you.  You could see the way his arms bulged from holding the entirety of Sophie’s body in the air, the tautness of his neck as he squeezed the ever-loving shit out of her, and it made you remember when he was lifting you like that once.  He was so strong it was terrifying. 

Suddenly he kicks his knife at you.  It slides with a grazing sound against the tiles before abruptly stopping before you.  “Pick it up.”

You did so, trying you best not to be so reluctant, but your permanently injured arms struggled to grasp the knife properly.  “C’mon…almost there.  You got it, babe,” he was coaxing you, but it all felt so insulting.  Somehow, and with his surprising patience, you managed to pick it up.  The handle was still warm, the blade oddly clean for such a disturbing occasion.  Jeff leans in, his lips pursing a bit as he spoke with unquenchable desire.

“ _Now make yourself beautiful for me._ ”

Stagger breathed, you stared at his knife for a while too long for you own liking.  Make yourself…beautiful?  It clicked like a lightbulb when you glanced up with teary eyes to see his torn-up face, his glittering crystal blue eyes and matted raven hair.  Sophie was still pleading with you with her stare, still urging you to use that knife or to _run._ But your face turns cold, serious, and with the determination to save someone you pried your mouth open before slipping the blade inside. 

It was a morbid thought, but you were grateful at how sharp it was.  Steel sliced through the flesh of your lip and cheek like a hot knife on butter.  Something hot and warm was oozing down your neck, to your chest, to your belly, and beyond, until finally you felt it on your knees as you stumbled about.  Jeff was laughing again, his stomach burning from how much he couldn’t handle himself.  The room was drowning out in his noise, and your screams, and your senseless crying. 

Fuck—holy **_fuck_** that hurt so damn much.  Crying only made it worse when your tears set the raw cut ablaze upon contact.  But you heard vigorous coughing, and when you glanced up you were grateful to see that Sophie was on all fours on the floor gasping for sweet air. 

“Atta- _fucking_ -girl!!” he was clapping now, his voice loud and booming and oh so torturous.  “Seriously…!  How the fuck did I get so lucky to find a crazy bitch like you?”  Jeff was about to draw near, but you did something he wasn’t expecting.  In your miserable state you shakily held the bloody knife towards him. 

“Gwet…bahck,” your words were sloppy from the fresh cut, the air running along your tongue slipping from the gaping wound now. 

Jeff glares, “C’mon, _babe,_ don’t ruin the fucking _moment_.”

“I’m…nawt…your…bahbe…!”

Snickering, he inches closer, “You’re so fucking cute.  Can’t wait to cut your tongue off and hear you beg without it…!”  A hand grasps his ankle tightly, startling him for a moment.  Jeff glances down to see Sophie struggling to hold him down.  “Run!”

“You fuckin’ hag!” he snarls, raising his foot before slamming it down on her hand.  Her scream was short lived as Jeff felt his body timber down.  When his back hit the solid tile, his head bouncing like a basketball, he swore he saw stars.  Blackness pooling in the corners of his vision just for a millisecond, he instantly understood that he must have a minor concussion now.  Something hot and wet was coating his chest.  It started out warm, then stinging, then _searing_.

Jeff glances down dazed to see his knife plunged into his right breast.  He scowls, lips tearing apart to scream, but you yanked the blade free with some effort before bringing it down again.

And again.

And again.

“GET HEWLP!” you screamed, each stab forcing a scream from your throat.  Jeff was gripping onto you growing weaker with each assault onto him.  He felt his lungs fill with blood, purging all the air from them, and when a fountain of blood splurges from between his massacred lips you dared to snap your head over to stare at Sophie.  Blood splattered your face, half of you looking as she remembered while the other…oh God.  Your face.  The left side of your face was torn open like some kind of horror movie.  Sophie stares—as much as she hated herself for it she just couldn’t tear her eyes away.  “GO!”  That got her blood boiling.  With her broken hand pressed firmly against her chest, Sophie flees from the scene out into the hallway. 

Help—Sophie was getting help.

Tired eyes stared down at the mess below you.  Jeff was motionless, his breathing long stopped, and that furious look in his eyes had died moments ago.  He was dead—there was no choking, no drowning, no quaking beneath her dead weight.  Just utter silence.  The warmth of his body was sickening you yet you didn’t have the strength to get off of him.  Finally letting go, you let your body slump down to lean slightly against his corpse. 

Tired—you were so…fucking…tired. 

…and so relieved.

You’d be laughing if you weren’t in so much pain.  If you were crying your fucking eyes out on the only person you had ever killed.  It was okay—you were protecting yourself—it was okay that you killed this _one_ person.  Right? 

Before you had the chance to answer yourself, you heard the terrifying sound of _chuckling._ Low, deep, pleasant chuckling.  Not only did you hear it, but you _felt_ it.  You felt the chuckling against the palm of your hands, and you had almost forgotten what your hands had been pressed against. 

_Jeff’s bloody chest._

Calloused fingers grabbed your exposed thighs by the handful, another thumb pressing along the ball of your throat so tightly that your breath hitched in it’s grasp.  Jerking up you could only stare, petrified, at the sight beneath you.  Jeff was awake.  Jeff was cackling like a madman now, his eyes fiery with some weird mix of fucked up emotions.

“ _Ho……ly…… **shit**_...” his voice was seething out like a hiss of a cut snake, coiling around your throat and exposing you to a whole new kind of fear.  His laughing stops, abruptly.  Too abruptly.  And he angles his neck up to stared right.  Dead.  At you. 

Jeff was _alive_.

“I just got _fucked_ in a whole new level, huh?” his squeezes your thigh a bit.  "I did tell ya I was gonna **_let_ ** you land a few hits..."

You wanted to scream.  You wanted to keep stabbing him over and over and over again.  But all you could do was whimper and stare with wide doe eyes in utter _disbelief_ because no…you must have been dreaming.  You must have been stuck in a nightmare, and you were actually asleep in your hospital bed right now and not sitting on a severely injured Jeffrey Woods with a knife plunged into his heart.  At his very _mercy._

 _“Y/N…"_ he said your name like he was testing the waters.  After all this time he just learned it, and he seemed to have enjoyed it, because his grip got even tighter.  _"I like it.”_

His grip got tighter, you vision blurring in and out, but he was still clear as day.  There was no denying it—Jeff was alive, as if you stabbing his chest 12 times at every possible angle was simply child’s play.  Licking his torn lips, he reels you in.  “C’mere.”  The kiss hurt your face.  Your gash bled against his pale skin, and as he forced you into something so abhorrent, you screamed into him.  Your hands, already so weak and far from being what they used to be, couldn’t even get a firm grasp at his messy buned-up hair.  Jeff pulls away, a satisfied look on his face at the sounds of your cries, and as you looked down to stare at him with all the _bitter hate_ that you could muster, you noticed his wounds weren’t bleeding anymore.

“You’re gonna fucking regret getting ballsy with me, **_babe…”_**

It was then you noticed that what you were dealing with wasn’t human at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')

**Author's Note:**

> Comments or Requests?
> 
> My Tumblr: http://tiktikaswang.tumblr.com/


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